


In the heat of the night

by October_rust



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Nudity, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 18:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12152124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/October_rust/pseuds/October_rust
Summary: Jason catches Tim swimming naked in the pool.





	In the heat of the night

It's a pleasant summer night: quiet, cloudless, filled with the calming buzz of crickets and the fresh smell of flowers.

There's even a slight breeze that makes the overall humidity bearable.

A perfect night for a short walk around the manor's gardens, the inky skies overhead dotted with stars.

But Jason pauses, about to step out from behind the line of neatly trimmed trees and shrubs, an unlit cigarette half lifted to his lips.

His eyes widen as he takes in the sight before him.

Just a few feet away, Tim Drake is swimming in the pool. The water ripples around him in silvery splashes, as his arms cut the surface, pushing, the rivulets sluicing down over sleek muscles and pale skin. He makes it all the way to the end of the pool and rests his forehead on the brink, his back straight, expanding with controlled breaths. 

And then he dives in again, starting another lap.

Looks like Timmy doesn't believe in taking some rest after a long patrol.

Jason watches him, his eyebrow rising, as he notes the flashes of naked buttocks, the muscles pulling taut with every movement.

Looks like Timmy doesn't believe in swimming trunks either.

Silently, his steps soft on the grass, Jason walks over to the pool, and sprawls out on a lounge chair.

He folds his hands behind his neck, feet crossed at the ankles, and waits.

Still, his gaze is riveted to Tim, following the way his body strains with exertion, lithe and graceful.

Gossip magazines would pay a shitton of money for the pictures of Timothy Drake-Wayne like that, skinny dipping at an ungodly hour, he thinks.

But it does look pretty tempting, he has to admit, all that water cooling your skin, soothing away tension from your muscles. He feels beads of sweat at his nape, and his t-shirt clings to his back. Yeah, would be nice to join Timmy in the pool.

And then Jason's thoughts scatter because Tim is climbing out, pushing wet hair away from his face, droplets of water gleaming on his chest.

Jason's breath catches in his throat.

Fortunately, he recovers quickly, ruthlessly stomping out the momentary awe, the involuntary spike of heat, just as Tim looks up and notices him.

And it's Tim's turn to freeze, his whole frame going rigid in an instant.

That's more like it.

“Gotta say,” Jason drawls, raking his gaze over Tim. “That's very bold of you, Timmy.”

It's satisfying to watch a faint blush bloom over Tim's cheeks and spread downwards, so Jason makes his perusal unhurried, staring at the delicate collarbone, sweeping his eyes lower, to the pebbled nipples, the tight abdominal muscles, and the trail of hair arrowing down from below the navel.

All sleek, compact strength, Tim is very easy on the eyes.

Not that Jason would ever admit it out loud.

He expects more blushing and some frantic scrambling for a towel, but instead Tim juts out his chin and meets Jason's gaze straight on, his expression back under control, cool and composed.

“Are you done?” he asks, his tone clipped. “Or are you going to gawk at me all night?”

“Maybe,” Jason replies, and grins at Tim. “So what if I want to gawk at you, Timmy?”

Tim's jaw tightens slightly, his eyes narrowing, and Jason congratulates himself on a job well done. Score two for Jason. Riling Timmy up, cracking up that collected, polished facade is a challenge that he cannot resist. 

Tim looks at him for a long moment, then shakes his head, like he can't believe Jason has just said that. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in exasperation.

“Jason – “ he starts to say, but cuts himself off almost in an instant. “Oh, screw this.”

He drops his hand, and takes a step towards Jason, eyes dark and intent. The last traces of awkwardness are gone; it's both fascinating and scary how quickly they've disappeared, and now Tim is stalking towards Jason in long, purposeful strides. Jason pushes himself up, blinking, a thrill of apprehension running down his spine.

There's a lethal grace about Tim, and Jason cannot help but think of predators and prey as he watches Tim approach, the deep shadows and pale light drawing Jason's gaze to the shift of muscles under wet skin.

And then Tim is right there, propping up his left knee on the chair, throwing his other leg over Jason's waist, straddling him.

Jason's toothy smile begins to fade, but he musters up his resolve, not letting himself dwell on the weight of Tim's body in his lap. Tim's very naked, very warm body, still glistening with silvery droplets of water.

“Nice moves, Timmy. Never would have thought you had it in you,” he says, despite the wild thumping of his pulse.

But Tim just looks down at him and gives Jason a smile of his own, his eyes glinting.

“Ready to give up and call this little game off?”

Jason frowns. “Ready to call what off? What are you on about?”

The corner of Tim's mouth lifts up even more. “You're blushing.” And he's leaning over Jason, invading his space. “And I can play your game too.”

Jason almost jerks back, his hands hovering, useless, over Tim's thighs and hips, not daring to touch. This has gone too far, it dawns on him, as Tim draws closer, so close that Jason can see a few tiny freckles scattered over his cheeks, a thin, faded scar cutting his brow.

Not breaking eye contact, Tim takes Jason's face in his palms, tilts it up. 

“You see,” he whispers against Jason's lips. ”This is a game where we both win.”

He closes that small gap, and his mouth covers Jason's, soft and light. His breath is warm, but his lips are cool, still slightly wet from Tim's late night swim, and Jason shudders at the sensation. He reaches up to bury his hand in Tim's overlong hair, feeling the damp strands curl around his fingers.

It surges up between them, the heat, and Jason finally gives in and grips Tim's thigh, enjoying how hard and solid it feels, and pulls Tim to his chest, not caring about the drops of water seeping in through his t-shirt. It's so good, so sweet, that when they inevitably part for air, Jason blindly chases after the kiss, the softness of Tim's mouth.

But Tim stops him, fingers stroking lightly over Jason's cheek, a small, genuine smile on his lips, his eyes warm.

“See? We both win,” he says.

“Yes,” Jason replies with a sheepish grin. “Yes.”

And then Jason doesn't talk anymore. Instead, he leans up and kisses the smile on Tim's lips.


End file.
